Thursday, June 20, 2013

conversations with myself

I sorted out my Schengen visa, and wanted to say a grand merci to the people that have recommended I do this through France.

Because, delight in the form of travel freedom, overcame me like a warm blanket crafted from Mongolian mohair, as I opened up my passport, which revealed: A two year Schengen.

They gave me a two year fuckin' Schengen. Mainly because I'm married.
Isn't that amazing? Viva la France!

I can't go and vibe out in the Balkans on it, but it does mean I can visit my cousin in Mallorca, go to Malta with The Dove, and generally go to Europe whenever the fancy takes me.

This is a [major] delight in my world. Hooray!

To celebrate, and to actually spend some time together after a week chained to my desk,  the Brit and I are going to go to Paris for lunch on Saturday.

The city, not the shop called 'Paris.' A friend went to Iceland once,  and kept having to say "I'm going to Iceland. Not the supermarket."

We are going to get on the Eurostar, jump out in Paris, go and eat in Montmartre, maybe have a quick drink in the Marais, and then head back home in the evening.
"What you up to this weekend?"

"Not much. Just planning to catch up on some sleep. Oh wait. We are nipping over to Paris for a spot of lunch."

"Just for lunch?"

"And a stroll, maybe take in a museum? Something showcasing calming water colours? But mainly just lunch."

"...what will you eat?"

"Une grande platre gastronomique..Or a burger?"

"...You're going to Paris to smash a burger."

"Quite fancy a crepe, to be fair. Something smothered in an ass-explosion amount of gooey chocolate or gruyere."

This conversation didn't happen. Just play-play talking between me and an imaginary person in the back of my exhausted cranium.

I really need to stop eating if I plan to impress the rear off my husband in a week's time when we go on fucking honeymoon baby.

[Fast forward, to vibrant, equatorially tropical paradise, me and husband lying on the white sands, sipping something alcoholic wearing barely no clothes at all.]

"Oh look darling, a whale!"

"No babe, that's my ass."


"....Why is it separate from your body?"

"Beacuse it grew so quickly over the last two weeks, that there was a coalition agreement between my actual body and my buttocks, whereby they split peacefully, as my ass was getting too dominant to stay attached to my body."

"I see."

Right. So I really am losing my mind, aren't I?

1 comment:

Flarkit said...

Yes, yes, you really are. But in a frightfully entertaining fashion, which keeps the readers coming back for more mind-loss.